Non Possumus
by Kim Who Knows
Summary: We didn't say much after the attack. Just packed up, cleaned the blood off our hands, and moved on. Now, watching my brother die in an Indiana motel, I wish we had.
1. Chapter 1

_This is a three-parter, already completed. Here's hoping you remember the episode "Dead Man's Blood" reasonably well. :) Enjoy! _

* * *

I didn't hear them until it was too late. Dean says I shouldn't blame myself. He gives me that look, and threatens to beat the crap out of me if I don't stop moping around. He tells me that there was no way of knowing, that it came out of nowhere, that I couldn't have stopped them on my own even if I _had _known. Anything he thinks will help. He's a good brother, he really is. 

Which just makes it all the worse.

I know he's right, but that doesn't make what happened any better. I was awake, keeping watch. We weren't expecting anything, not really, but we'd just done a good ol' fashioned salt-and-burn in the local cemetery, and we'd heard sirens going off, responding to an alleged grave desecration. We left no trail, of course, but we took turns sitting up anyway, just in case someone figured it out. Henrickson was definitely still looking. We couldn't take any chances when it came to the law. I was just on the laptop, scanning Wikipedia, filling my head with trivia when I heard the footsteps, already outside out door. I had my knife, but my gun was still tucked under my bed. I opened my mouth to warn Dean, but they were already breaking down the door.

I recognized her immediately. It was the nose. Turned up at the end, distinctive. Kate, the matriarch of the vampire nest we'd helped depopulate. The few family members we'd left to her swarmed into the room. I saw three of them grab for Dean. He decapitated two, producing a knife out of thin air. I turned my attention back to the she-vamp sauntering her way to me, flanked by two new vampires I hadn't seen before. New toys. Big ones, shaved heads, biker boots, leather chaps…the whole deal. I backed away until my back hit the wall. Dean noticed and gritted his teeth. Kate smiled at me. "Mornin', Sam. I thought we might meet up again." She tapped the side of her nose playfully. "Scent for life, you know."

I responded by smiling as Dean hacked the head off the last of his attackers. He started toward me, but didn't get far. The window to my left shattered, and fangs poured in. One moment, only the last members of Kate's nest; the next, an entire army. Now there were seven on my brother, dragging him out, away from me, into the parking lot, prying the knife from his fingers and flinging it out of his reach. I screamed and launched myself forward.

I killed three before they got me, too. The two gigantic bikers swung their ham-like fists at my face and stomach, brought me down to my knees seeing black. I struggled to my feet, but my lapse had cost me. I was surrounded now, vamps clawing at my arms, leaving bloody trails where their fingernails had been. They pulled me down onto the floor, nipping at me, leaving small prickles of blood all across my neck and my chest and my arms. They lapped it up, laughing, not feeding, only playing. They were toying with me, enjoying it. I wondered if they were doing the same to Dean. I went still, let them play their game, listening for the tell-tale sounds of a fight, hoping Dean would break away. I never heard anything.

Kate was straddling my chest, lapping at the blood on my forehead when another fang came in. "He's down." He said, and bared bloody fangs. My brother's blood. Adrenaline surged. I broke an arm free and clobbered the side of Kate's face with all the strength I could muster. She flew off me, landing sprawled on the floor. One of her family put her fangs to my jugular, waiting to Kate to give the order in retribution. The matriarch wiped her mouth of my blood and stared at me.

"What's the matter, Winchester? Scared? I'll be real gentle with him, I promise." Her eyes were wide with mock innocence, then hardened with malicious glee. "I'll suck him dry, but I'll be humane about it."

"If you so much as leave a bruise--" I began, but the female vamp hovering above my jugular clamped down, teasing, not breaking skin, but the threat was clear. I channeled my anger into my gaze. Kate's smile faltered. For one second, she knew she was in dangerous waters. And she was. If I had been free, I would have crushed her skull in with my bare hands. Her grin steadied.

"Catch you later, Winchester." She blew a kiss at me, baring her fangs at her family. "Don't take too much. Save him for later." There were throaty laughs all around, and the vamps around me continued their game. I fought them, clawing at their faces, inflicting damage wherever I could, but none of it was enough. One of the hulking males bent over me, and I saw what I needed. The huge hunting knife attached to his hip. I went limp, feigning unconciousness. The vamps laughed, but backed away a little.

"I say we join in on the other one." The biker-vamp said, his voice wet, vocal chords dampened by my blood. He didn't finish the thought. I shot up, ripping the weapon from its sheath and swung. It took two swings to remove his head, but the deed was done. The rest of the vamps were evidently new to the nest. They looked at their fallen comrade and backed away, hissing at me. They'd obviously never seen any of their kind die before, and likely figured that I was one tough blood-sack to do it. Better to risk Kate's wrath than mine. That was fine with me. I backed out of the room. The vamps were down at the end of the row of cars. I broke into a run. "Dean!" I cried. I got a sick sense of satisfaction watching Kate's face as she looked up. The abject surprise was sweet as candy. I was already too close for her to run. I killed the first fang that came my way, then reached out and snatched Kate by the hair. She screamed as I brandished my weapon at her throat. "Stay back!" The fangs halted. I could see Dean behind them, on the ground, but moving. He was trying to lift himself up on his elbow. He met my gaze and nodded. _Okay, I'm okay. _I bent my head to whisper in her ear, trying to remember every evil creature I'd ever encountered, worked their malice into my own voice. "You ever come looking for us again? I won't kill you." I fet her jerk in surprise. I lowered my voice to a husky whisper and traced a pattern on her neck with my knife. "I'll starve you. I'll watch while you beg and plead for me to end it, but I never will. I'll let you suffer until there's only an empty body left. Got it?"

I felt her head move up and down, frantic. I let her go, kicked her away from me. "Get out."

Kate signaled, never taking her eyes off me. Her posse looked as though they wanted to kill me then and there, but they followed her. It was surprising. I had expected to have to fight my way to Dean. They were giving up sort of…quickly. Guess I was scarier than I thought. They disappeared into the darkness. I watched them until they were out of sight, then stuffed the knife in my waistband and dropped next to Dean.

"You okay?" He was sitting up now. I could see blood on him, but it didn't look severe. He was shaking, though, so I offered him my hand and helped him to his feet. He was a little unsteady, but straightened up quickly.

"Let's get out of here." I didn't have any objection. We started back to the hotel room. I kept my hand out, in case Dean needed it as we packed and loaded the Impala. I was feeling a little light-headed, and Dean had lost more blood than me. I was just pouring myself into the drivers seat (no way I was letting Dean drive) when I heard him chuckle under his breath.

'What?"

"You. That was pretty awesome, Rambo."

I smiled back and shut the door.

* * *

After Kate's attack we holed up in Indiana, three hundred miles away in the smallest motel in the smallest town we could find. Cases were slow. Apparently, Weirdo-ville was keeping its head down this week. The only thing left to do was keep our eyes open and the newspapers coming. I was scanning the back page of the latest one when I noticed. Dean, on the bed, combing over a few leads of his own, kept raising his hand to massage his pale temples. He'd been quiet, not really eating, and now I knew why. Dean was sick, which meant that it was time to do battle. To be honest, I'd rather face Kate and her brood again armed with only a Dixie cup and some string. At least then I had a decent chance of survival. 

I kept my eyes down and casually asked, "How are you doing, Dean?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Just wondering. Lost a lot of blood back there."

"Yeah, I guess."

I risked another look and met his eyes. I smiled apologetically as he glared at me. "You just look a little tired, that's all."

"Well I'm not. You got anything?"

"Not yet." A pause. "You sure you don't need an aspirin or something?"

He dropped the newspaper he was holding and threw up his hands in defeat. "Is there something you'd like to say, Sam?"

"Just…" My mind flew. With Dean, there were multiple angles to play, and some worked better at times than others. There was the anger angle, the stoic angle, the bossy angle, the begging angle, etc., etc., each designed to coax my brother into doing what I needed him to do. Manipulation? I was not above it. But I knew which angle would work best this time, this close after a crisis. I shrank in my chair and opened my eyes wide, bending my head so I was looking up at my brother and said, "I was scared, Dean. For you. When they dragged you off and I was still inside…I didn't know if you were even alive." It was true. Every word. But played from the little brother angle, it was like magic. I watched Dean roll his eyes at me, but knew that he was softening. "I'm just worried, I guess. Sorry." I delivered the clincher and saw the slight sag of Dean's shoulders that signaled defeat.

"Stop saying that, Sam." He shook his head, as though disappointed in how easily he caved to me. "I guess an aspirin would be nice."

"So what's the matter?" I went for the bottle, digging through my duffle. I kept all medications. Dean was likely to try and take five or six of any given painkiller just to prove he was man enough.

"Just not on top of my game."

"Yeah? You want something more specialized?"

"Nah. Aspirin's fine." I counted out three and tossed them over one by one. Dean swallowed them down dry.

"You know," I began, concentrating on sounding nonchalant, "There's been some weird electrical shortages a couple counties over. It's probably nothing, but we could head over and check if out once it gets dark." There wasn't. I made it up. Means to an end, and all that.

"Fill me in." I did, and Dean sat back nodding. "Could be a poltergeist, since its just happening on that one block. Like that time in Denver."

"Yeah. Looks like we're going to have a late night. Maybe you should get some rest."

He shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his boots. "Guess so." Short answers. No sarcastic quips. Definitely sick. He slid under the covers. "You get some sleep too, alright?"

"Sure. Just let me finish up." There was silence, for a long time, only the occasional crinkle as I turned a page.

"Sam?" My brother's voice was thick with sleep. I looked over. He'd pulled the blankets away from his face and was looking at me, his eyes green slits between heavy lids.

"Yeah?"

"There is no poltergeist, is there."

"Nope." I smiled triumphantly.

He flipped me the bird and closed his eyes.

* * *

Dean slept throught he rest of the evening and I joined him at about midnight. He was out cold, relaxed to the extreme. Which was why it surprised me when he woke me up before dawn, shaking my shoulders, insistent. 

"What?" I snapped.

"What'd you do with the aspirin?"

That woke me up. "Why, what's wrong?" I flicked on the lamp beside the bed and stifled a gasp. "Dean, what happened?" He was bleeding from the mouth. As I watched, a trickle of blood made its way down his chin. He wiped it away, looked at the blood on his fingers. He swore loudly and sat back onto the edge of his bed. "Here, lie down," I said, trying not to panic. Bleeding from the mouth was a sign of internal bleeding. A punctured lung, maybe? I cursed myself for missing it. How could I miss it? I should have checked, should have been more careful…

"I don't know. Been feeling off since the attack." He reclined back against his pillow. I snagged the first aid kit and sat at his side.

"Where's the pain coming from?"

"My mouth. It's--" He groaned and clamped his lips shut. I frowned. Mouth?

"Open. Let me see in there." He let the pain pass and opened wide. I looked for something, anything that would explain the pain. But there was nothing. Nothing but fresh spurts of blood every few seconds. "Dean, I can't see anything." Panic was beginning to color the edges of my vision. No hospitals, the law was still on our scent, and Bobby was hours away. Dean was bleeding enough he had to swallow a couple mouthfuls before I thought about it and got him a cup to spit it in.

He expelled a stream of red and looked up at me. "What is this, Sam?"

"Let me look again." This time, I snapped plastic gloves on, feeling, probing. I searched up and under his lip and felt something hard. Dean grunted as I touched it. Shrapnel, maybe? Something was up there. "I feel something. Hold on, okay?" I lifted his lip carefully and had to stifle a cry.

Fangs. A new tooth breaking the surface of Dean's gums every few seconds, spurting blood as they stabbed through the flesh. Already, there was a substantial row of shark-like teeth. Fangs.

My brother had been turned.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Drop a review on your way out!_


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter was already up for a day when GotTheShining pointed out a certain line to me that seemed a little wonky. (Thanks!) It ate at me until I fixed it. :) I apologize if you get another alert for this slightly edited posting. _

* * *

The day that followed is among the worst of my memories. I'm ashamed to say that my own fear kept me from doing all I could. Fangs were still stabbing through my brother's gums, still filling his mouth with his own blood, and every once in a while, his eyes would open wide, reflecting the moonlight like a cat's, and he'd open his mouth, expectantly, hungrily. If frightened me. He knew what was happening by the look on my face. I would have given anything for something to say, some kind of comfort I could give. Naturally, I wasn't so lucky. 

The sun came up before the fangs stopped coming. Dean went limp, a puppet with its strings cut against the pillow. I had retreated to a chair, close enough to my brother to help when he started to choke, far enough to feed my own insecurity. I slid closer. "Dean?" I questioned. When he didn't respond, I gave up on my own defense mechanism and sat on the edge of his bed. His mouth was rimmed with red, spilled out of his own mouth. The pillow had a few specks here and there, just minute flecks of crimson. His eyes were closed, exhaustion chipping away at him. I bit my lip. "Dean?"

He opened his eyes and met my gaze, emotionless. "Sam," he murmured.

"I'm here."

"I know that, moron. You're on my arm." I looked down. His hand was trapped beneath my thigh. I jumped up and away.

"Oh…sorry."

The next few minutes were spent in silence. Dean propped himself against the headboard, rubbing at the red on his lips. I got him a wet cloth and let him wash it off. He took a deep breath and popped his knuckles.

"I guess you'd better go."

"Go?" I whispered, "Go where?"

"Somewhere. Heard there's a black dog in Mississippi. Might check that out." He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wobbling on his feet, but steading quickly. He tugged a new shirt out of his duffel and twisted out of his old one.

"Go…" My tongue twisted around the word. "I'm not just going to leave you here."

"Okay, then don't think of it as 'leaving me'. Just think of it as…an extended vacation."

"Dean, no. You're…not yourself. This is big, and you can play the tough guy all you want, but you can't do this alone."

"Sure I can. It's not like I'm the first person to ever be turned."

"True enough. Lots of vamps have been created. And you know what else? Lots of vamps also get hunted."

Dean cut me off. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're sticking around because you think I need protection? Come on, Sam. I'm a hunter. I'm good enough to outsmart anybody that comes my way."

"Oh, right, like you outsmarted Gordon when he came for me. As I recall, you wound up tied to a chair."

There was a flicker of uncertainty at the mention of Gordon. Bobby would accept this, probably offer to help, and Ellen, and old friends of Dad. But there were more hunters out there who would look at my brother as a vampire…and nothing more. Something to kill. Dean was good, one of the best, but he was still young. Some of these hunters had been at this for fifty years.

And Dean knew it.

I seized on his moment of weakness. "Don't think you're protecting me by sending me away. Even if you kick me out of this motel room, I'll sit right outside the door. I'm not going anywhere."

"You might not have a choice." The response was almost inaudible. Dean was starting to sway on his feet. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into a chair, perching myself on the bed. It was a parody of another motel room, long ago, Dean sick and pale, heart weak and barely pumping; me, frantic and drawn, mind racing for a solution.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…I'm sick, man. This isn't like some virus where I take some Nyquil and feel better in the morning. I…" He closed his eyes in revulsion. "I'm hungry, Sam. I'm not worried about hunters. We can handle those. We always have. But…I can't fight this. I'm starving." He tried to laugh, but choked. "I can smell you from here. I can smell every ounce of blood in your body. And I want it, Sam. I want it so much." It was a terrible desperation, a heroine junky on his knees pleading for one more fix even as he trembled and slurred from the last one.

I choked down a mouthful of bile. "Dean…"

"I can't hurt you, Sam. I can't let myself. That's why you have to go."

My heart felt like it might explode. There was a sudden rush of loyalty, replacing all doubt. I wanted to throw my arms around my brother and hold him until everything was right with the world. I shook my head. "No, Dean. No."

"Sam--"

"No." I stood up and paced a few steps. "You wouldn't ever leave me. Not even when we found out I killed someone, not even when I begged you to."

"You were possessed--"

"And to a certain extent, so are you! This vampire, inside you, it's not really you. Just like I wasn't really me when Meg used me as her personal hitman." I stopped pacing and met my brother's gaze squarely. "You wouldn't ever hurt me. I know that, Dean. This hunger…it's instinct. Nothing more." I smiled, albeit sadly. "I'm not leaving you."

Dean tried to smile back and failed.

* * *

I ushered him back to bed sometime after eight. It was frightening how quickly he went downhill from there. Weakness was understandable; he'd just spent an entire night losing his humanity, but this was more than that. He slept, but only in five or ten minute intervals, and between them, he'd lie still, sometimes responding to my questions, sometimes not. By noon, he was shaking so badly he looked hypothermic. I'd been trying to do the proper Winchester thing and suck it up, handle the situation myself. 

But this was too much.

Hearing Bobby's voice, even over the phone, was relieving.

"Bobby."

'What's going on, Sam?"

"Dean's been turned. Vamp."

Silence.

"Bobby. Dean's been turned."

"Oh." Pause. 'What do you need from me?"

"I…don't know. Got a copy of _Care and Feeding of Vampires _sitting around the junkyard somewhere?"

"'Fraid not." Pause. "He's really been turned?"

"He's starving. What do you know about how they feed?"

"Well…most legends you've heard about the bloodlust are true. Fresh human blood's the best, if they can get it. But didn't you say that nest in Red Lodge drank cow's blood?"

Lenore. I could have hit myself. I'd helped them escape, away from Gordon. Out of Montana. She'd been surprised, I knew, that a hunter should save her. But not ungrateful. Our last exchange had been almost friendly. If I could find her, she would know how a vampire could live without human blood.

"Bobby. I need you to do something."

"Sure, Sam. Whatever you need."

"Look around in Nebraska. Maybe even South Dakota. I only took them to the Montana border, but they probably wouldn't have gone much farther. Look for cattle mutilations, or poaching. If we can find that nest, they can help Dean."

"Sam, listen… I know you're just trying to help Dean. But do you really want to risk bringing an entire nest of fangs in that close to home?"

"I don't think we have much of a choice. Dean…" I swallowed hard. "He's dying, Bobby. He's going to die."

I could see Bobby's face in my minds eye, crinkling his mouth under gray stubble, removing his trucker's cap to scratch at his hair. "Alright Sam. Where are you?"

"Indiana."

"Alright. You boys come stay with me. If those fangs really are around here, you'd better be too."

Bobby had a certain way of saying things. He was gruff, hard around the edges, even less given to emotional expression than my father had been. But there were times when I knew he cared for me and my brother more than he could say. He never said it, not really, but there was a certain tone he got, deep in his throat, that let us know.

"Thanks, Bobby. For everything." There was a moment of silence and then the click of the call ending. I slid the phone back into my pocket and gathered our things, dumping them unceremoniously in the backseat.

Dean was sleeping when I got back in. He looked so weak, so tired, I couldn't bring myself to shake him awake. I bent down instead, slipping one arm under his shoulders and the other beneath his knees and lifted. It wasn't easy. I had inches on my brother, but not necessarily muscle. Dean was stockier than I was, and tough as nails. I managed, though, and shifted my arms so that his head was lolling in the crook between my shoulder and neck.

I should have known that was a mistake.

I was almost to the Impala before I heard it. My brother was groaning faintly in his sleep, stirring against my shoulder. I slowed, worried I was hurting him. "Dean?" I said. I felt my pulse quicken with a slight influx of adrenaline. He twisted in my arms, and I almost lost my grip. I hurried to the car, the back door already open and sank into it. I started to lay my brother out on the seat, holding his head in that shoulder-neck crook with one hand so it wouldn't flop back. Dean's fingers dug into my arms. I stopped, holding him there against my chest. "Dean, what's wrong?" He turned his head to the side, leaning into my neck. His breath quickened, until he was almost gasping. Pain suddenly exploded in the soft flesh under my jaw. A thousand needles seemed to prick at me. I pushed Dean away from me, and landed a punch on his side. The whites of his eyes were yellowed and the pupils dilated. His mouth was a gaping maw of teeth, the tips stained with the crimson of my blood.

I threw myself off the seat, backwards, onto the pavement, crab-crawling out of reach and stayed there, watching. My brother stared at me, panting, licking my blood from his lips and teeth. There was a tiny spot of red on his hand where he'd grabbed me. I watched in mortification as he licked his fingers clean, eyes rolling back in bliss. I clamped a hand across my neck. It came away barely bloody. I was lucky my brother was a new vampire, inexperienced. He'd missed my artery.

And all at once it was over. Dean stopped suddenly, fangs retracting, looked first at his hand, like a sleepwalker awoken from a dream. Then his eyes looked at me. The confusion in them turned quickly to horror. I was shaking, but I knew that this was far worse for Dean than it was for me.

I stood up, wiping the gravel from my palms. I shut Dean's door, leaving him in the backseat and took the driver's seat. We'd gone several miles before I spoke again. "I don't mind, Dean. It's not your fault." A complete lie. I did mind. My brother was becoming something not my brother. Of course I was going to mind. I peered in the rearview mirror.

The devastation in Dean's eyes told me he didn't agree.

I tried again. "I'm not angry."

"Shut up, Sam."

There was nothing else for me to do.We drove in silence.

* * *

Bobby stepped down off his porch wearing the same trucker's cap I'd seen him in last time we'd been here. I left Dean in the car. He'd refused to talk to me. It was as though he was punishing himself. "_Can't let Sammy care for me until I've done my time". _It hurt, him pushing me away like this. I wanted him to trust me. I needed him to trust me, because to be honest, I wasn't sure about tracking down Lenore, either. I doubted myself, and if Dean started doubting me, I wasn't sure I could make it. 

I got an unexpected hug from Bobby. Not a hug with any kind of girly emotional implications, just one that grounded me. After that episode with Dean, it cleared my head. "Hey, Bobby."

"Sam." He peered around me to where Dean sat, staring out the window, looking past us as though refusing to acknowledge our presence would make his instinct go away. 'What's he doing in there? He hurt?"

"No, not really. But…he's getting worse, Bobby. He, um…" I pointed vaguely at the bite mark on my neck.

Bobby swore and swatted my hands out of the way, inspecting it himself. "Didn't try to turn you, did he?"

"No, nothing like that. He's just so hungry. It's making him lose control. If I'd been somebody who couldn't fight, he would have done some serious damage."

"Guess you're lucky I found the nest, then."

I couldn't stop a relieved smile. "You found them?"

"Most likely. A couple hundred miles from here. Called in a favor with a guy I know. Sure enough, a group of people moved in and then the cattle mutilations started. Got the names of the newcomers. Looking for a lady, right?"

"Lenore."

"Right. Works at the library. Give her a call and see if its her. You get ahold of her fast enough she could be here by dawn."

"Thanks, Bobby." I started inside, and thought better of it. "I'd better get Dean inside."

"What for? If he wants to sulk, let him sulk." I almost smiled. Bobby would have been an interesting parent.

"He's sick, he really is. I'd feel better if he were in bed." I moved in the Impala's direction, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"You let me. He's probably scared to death of you. Well, of what he did to you. But you don't deserve his crap, Sam. You're just being a good brother. I'll talk to him, set him straight."

I cocked one eyebrown and felt a smile pull at the corners of my mouth. "You think you can break through the Winchester stubborn streak?"

He gave me a look and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "The Singer stubborn streak ain't no pushover, either." He sauntered off.

It took me a while to find the notepad with the numbers on it. Bobby was a bachelor, and in true bachelor's fashion lived in a world of convenient piles. Books in one pile, clothes in another, pots and pans in yet another. I doubted the place had ever been thoroughly cleaned. Bobby had notated "girl--Whats-her-name?" beside one number. I dialed it, and it went to voicemail twice before I finally got through.

I recognized her voice immediately, a lilting, gentle tone. She said, "Hello?"

"Lenore?"

A pause. I could hear voices in the background; wherever she was, it was crowded."I'm sorry, this is Andrea."

"I'm looking for a Lenore from Montana. My name's Sam, I helped her get out of a… bad situation."

Another pause. The voices faded into the distance, and I heard her say, "I know, sorry! I have to take this," and then she was back, whispering.

"What is it, Sam?"

"I need your help."

"My help? For what?"

"My brother. I can't explain over the phone like this, but…please, Lenore. I've got coordinates to our location. Do you have a GPS, or something?"

"In my car." I rattled off the numbers.

I was pacing again, back and forth in the smal space of Bobby's cabin. I was close to helping my brother, and it made me even more impatient than before. "It's an emergency. Come as soon as you can."

I heard her sigh. "Kate finally did it, didn't she."

My blood ran cold. "What?"

"There aren't many of us left, Sam. Word travels fast. Kate's been looking for you for a long time. You killed her mate. Honestly, I can't blame her." Another sigh. "Did she hurt your brother?"

I snorted. "I wish."

"Turned him?" I stayed silent.Up until now, I hadn't been sure she would come. We'd only met once. But as she spoke again, I heard the sorrow in her voice, and didn't doubt. "I'll be there by dawn." The call disconnected.

Now that the future was taken care of, my thoughts turned back to the present. I hadn't heard or seen Bobby come back inside. He had to still be with Dean. I felt a prick of worry. If Dean vamped out again…well, Bobby wasn't young anymore. My brother could suck him dry. I went to the window.

The two of them were sitting on the hood of some old junker in the yard. I could only see their backs as they looked forward and away from the window. Dean was gesturing with his arms, talking. All at once he broke off and put his head in his hands and rocked forward and back. I started toward the door, wanting to tell him that it was all okay, that no harm had been done, and please stop it, big brother, don't be sad like that, I hate it. Bobby saw me out of the corner of his eye and put a hand up to stop me.

Slowly, he brought one hand up and put it on my brother's shoulder and left it there. He bent his neck and head low, but kept them deliberately out of Dean's view to fend off temptation. He murmured something and my brother slowly calmed. I had never been more grateful for Bobby, for the almost-father he was…to both of us. The older man slid off the hood and offered a hand to Dean, who tried to slide down gracefully. Hunger and exhaustion took their toll, though, and if not for Bobby's firm grip, he probably would have fallen. Over Dean's shoulder, Bobby nodded at me.

I was outside and down the steps in three strides. Bobby nodded. "You go with your brother, Dean. He's gotcha."

Dean met my eyes. I saw still that unspeakable sorrow and revulsion, and I knew that things weren't right between us, not by a long shot, but he was forcing a smile. It wasn't much, and it was pitifully fake, but it was enough of a start that I didn't care.

We went together to wait for dawn.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Leave a review_ _on your way out!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Well, you know how at the beginning, I said this was a three-parter? It was. Not anymore. :) Here you go!_

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I sat at Dean's bedside even though I knew it wasn't safe. I couldn't help it. I'd always been the caring one of the family. Dean had teased me about it, since we were kids. Called me a mother hen and made clucking noises when I jumped up to get him some aspirin, or another pillow. I didn't care. I had to. As a kid, my caretaking had been out of necessity. Dad was gone, more often than not, leaving Dean in charge. Neither of us were old enough to hunt yet, though we were training for the day, so most of my aid was limited to putting on a Band-Aid. When we started to hunt, I learned everything else, from stitches to cauterization. I patched my brother up and he did the same for me. No big deal. 

Until everyone was gone. Mom, Jess, Dad…gone. Then it was a big deal. Sometimes the worry would literally become a ball in my throat that made me choke. My family had always given me grief about how independent I was, that I wanted to function on my own, I never wanted anyone's help. It was true, to a certain point. But that had been back when I thought my father was invincible. That was back before I realized Dean was just as mortal as everyone else. When I ran away to college, I always assumed that even if worse came to worse, I could just call up my brother and tell him I was coming home, and they'd be there waiting for me exactly as I'd left them.

But people could disappear. People could die. It had taken me twenty-two years to really get it. And now I had one person left. One more chance. So I sat quietly at his bedside, watching my brother slip in and out of sleep. Bobby had one extra bed, and I'd made Dean take it. He was plainly getting worse. His eyes were closed, and he lay quietly against the pillow, but I knew he wasn't resting. Years and years of listening to my brother breathe told me that this toss-and-turn sleep wasn't doing him any good.

I heard Bobby's heavy footsteps on the stairs. I stood, popping my back, and opened the door for him. As the door swung open, he cocked an eyebrow and said, "Got the couch made up, you wanna get some rest."

"No, that's okay." I stretched out my legs, popping my kneecaps. "What time is it?"

"My clock's batteries ran down. Not sure, but…hour till dawn, maybe." He looked at me. "I think you should get some rest."

"Lenore will be here soon." I rubbed my eye with the palm of my hand. I was tired. Tonight made two days without sleep. But until Dean could sleep, I wouldn't either. It didn't seem right. I went back to the chair, suddenly aware of the distance between my brother and me.

Bobby shook his head at me. "Dean would beat the crap out of you if he knew." He stood behind me and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm sure." I conceded mildly. I wasn't in the mood to fight. It was probably a sign of the apocalypse.

"How's he doing?" Bobby gestured vaguely at my brother.

I shook my head. "Not good. Lenore had better get here soon."

"Has he said anything?"

"Sort of. Tried to kick me out, I think, but he passed out again before he could finish the sentence." My lips turned down involuntarily at the thought. Dean had stirred a little and opened his eyes a sliver and started to say, "Sam, get--" before he'd burst into a fit of gasping, his fangs moving beneath his lips until he forced them back. It left him so drained he merely closed his eyes again and was quiet.

"It's been a rough couple of days. He might just wanna think. It's nothing personal against you, Sam."

"I know." I frowned. "Dean always was a crappy patient."

"That time your daddy dropped you both here and Dean had orders to stay in bed for three days? Worst three days of my life." He had an exaggerated look of agitation on his face, and I felt my mouth start to turn up in a smile. "There it is," He said, pleased with himself. "You've looked like you been sucking on lemons since you got here."

"I guess I probably have." I let the smile come, then. Bobby looked immensely relieved. He leaned over and patted my knee. "Dean's tough. If there's anyone who could pull off being a hunter _and _a vampire, it'd be him."

I opened my mouth to reply when I heard the squeaking of brakes. I was up and halfway down the stairs before Bobby was even on his feet. I got to the door as Lenore was climbing out of a Jeep. She looked different now. Her hair was still long, but she'd dyed it a dirty blonde, and her clothes reflected more of a polished profession than when I'd seen her last. But it was her. A man clambered out of the passenger's seat. Eli. I remembered him. He'd shaved his facial hair and had a buzz cut. Lenore came forward to meet me.

"Sam." She took my hand in hers and squeezed it gently. "Take me to your brother."

I had expected Lenore to answer all my questions, but instead I became the object of the inquisition. Eli hounded my steps as we entered the house. "How many days has it been?" "Has he eaten anything?" "What do his eyes look like?" I hardly had any answers.

Lenore stopped him. "Who is his sire?"

That one I knew. "Kate."

She shook her head. "No, his sire."

"I'm sure Kate's the one that turned him."

She sighed. "Vampire lines are patriarchal. The male that turned Kate is also Dean's sire. Or, if Kate was turned by a female, the male that turned that female is Dean's sire. The line will go back to the nearest male. Do you know who turned Kate?"

We were almost to Dean's room. "She had a mate…Luther."

She shook her head. "Luther was dead before Dean was turned. Eli, call around. We have to find his sire." I didn't get to ask her what she meant, because she pushed open the door without waiting for an invitation. Eli stayed put, holding his phone out, searching for reception. I followed Lenore into my brother's room.

It was dark, a balmy, suffocating darkness. The sun was beginning to peek over the mountains, but I had covered the windows with blankets. If the sun came up, I didn't want it to hurt my brother. Lenore looked around, analyzing what I'd done, nodded approvingly. She walked slowly, quietly in a meandering line to my brother, eyeing her surroundings, occasionally giving me a direction. "Move that chair," and "Have Eli give you my bag, please," her voice always at a whisper. Dean never moved, not even when I opened the door to the hallway and light came spilling in.

"I'm supposed to get…" I said, and Eli pushed a tote bag at me, waving his hand to shush me, focused intently on his phone conversation. I wondered who he had called. Bobby stood there too, looking altogether uncomfortable at the prospect of Dean and I in a room alone with a vampire who was likely a hundred years our senior. I looked at him and turned to go. He caught my arm and pulled me around to face him.

"I'ma be right out here, Sam. You holler if you need anything." He moved ever so slightly and his jacket shifted to reveal a wicked looking knife. I didn't doubt he had a canister of dead man's blood on his other hip. I nodded, grateful for the concern, and stepped back into the room.

I had only been gone a minute, even less, but Lenore had rearranged my brother's bed completely. The blankets had been ripped off and lay in heaps on the floor. She had shifted my brother so that he lay half-sitting against her shoulder, and removed his jacket. He was awake, but not aware, staring blindly at nothing. It made me want to scream and rip him out of Lenore's arms and into mine, but instead I sat on the floor, as close as I could get to the two of them without interfering in whatever ritual Lenore was beginning to perform.

"My bag?" She said. Her hand went to my brother's mouth, fingers sliding under his lips to feel the ridges in the gums created by the fangs. She pushed lightly on one, and a perfect, pearly-white tooth slipped from its sheath to be inspected. I watched, fascinated until she repeated the question.

"I have it."

"Good." She removed her hand from Dean's mouth and lifted his head to stare at his eyes. I wondered what she was looking for. "Reach inside and give me one, please." Confused, I followed her instructions, and felt my stomach turn. They were plastic packets of blood, the crimson moving sluggishly inside as I handed one to her. Dean stirred and made a choking noise. "You're lucky I was this close to South Dakota, Sam," She said placidly, making a tear in the bag with her fingernail, "Another few hours and he'd be gone."

A shiver ran up my spine.

Her fingers danced lightly across the hole in the bag, widening it. She looked at me. "You don't have to watch, Sam."

I nodded slowly. "I know. But I want to." It wasn't entirely true. The truth was that I was afraid. Up until now, I could pretend that this was just another sickness, that another voodoo spell or another amulet would make it all go away. I could pretend that my brother hadn't really attacked me. But if I watched him truly feed? There was no going back, and no more pretending.

There was a sadness in her eyes that made me uncomfortable, but she turned her attention to Dean soon enough. "Type A. Good and easy," she murmured. My head shot up.

"That's…human blood?"

Lenore shrugged. "Like mother's milk to us, Sam. Would you feed a human baby anything but milk? Your brother's still just a newborn. He couldn't handle cow's blood any more than an infant could handle a T-bone steak." She put her lips to the rip in the bag, and I watched her fangs extend, realizing for the first time how much larger they were than my brother's. I felt a prick of curiosity, wondering how large my brother's fangs would be when he achieved "adulthood".

Lenore sucked only enough to wet her lips, then turned her head to my brother. "Come on, now," She whispered, and my brother seemed suddenly aware, focused intently on the crimson dripping from her mouth. His mouth opened wide, and his pearly fangs speared through his gums, almost covering his human teeth. Lenore nodded, approving and whispered, almost crooning, "That's it. Take it." My brother pressed his lips to hers, in a parody of a kiss, fierce, demanding. When the red on her lips had been taken by my brother, Lenore put her fangs to the bag again, this time filling her mouth, and repeated the mock-kiss. Dean sucked eagerly until her mouth was empty. He pushed her away abruptly. His eyes had darkened from a dusky green to smoky emerald.

"Let me." He said. I was relieved to hear him speak again without choking, his voice strong and his eyes alert; horrified at what he was asking for.

Lenore held the bag out of reach. "Not yet. Crawl before you walk." She sucked another mouthful and repeated the process. Each time, she gave my brother a little more, let him drain the crimson from her mouth with a little more force until at last the bag was empty. She let it fall unceremoniously to the floor and wiped the remaining blood from her lips. My brother was no longer shaking, and he looked at her quizzically. "You've had enough for now." She said, and I prepared myself for an earth-shattering _something _to happen, but nothing did. Dean nodded and sat back with a satisfied nod, and I _knew. _Dean was Dean, questions about his humanity aside.

Lenore looked from Dean to me and nodded, standing and plucking her bag from the floor gently. "He'll be alright." She said to me, and swept from the room, closing the door with a click behind her. There was silence.

"You shouldn't have stayed," Dean said finally, shaking his head.

"I wanted to."

"Liar."

"Maybe," I conceded, "But now I know what its like for you. How are you feeling?"

"Better." There were faint lines on his forehead, and I knew something was on his mind.

"What is it?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

"Come on, Dean. If we're going to live with this, we're going to have to work together. No machoistic stuff."

"It was good."

I frowned, unsure of his meaning, then understood, was vaguely disturbed. "The…what she gave you?"

"Best thing I ever tasted."

I nodded and swallowed hard. This was life now, and I had to accept it, and to accept it, I had to understand it. "What'd it taste like?"

Dean looked at me like I'd told him I was pregnant. "You don't want to know."

"Yes, I do." He gave me a dubious look. I smiled at him, honest, open. "Okay, you're right. I don't really want to know. But I should know. This is how you survive from now on. I've got to know what its like."

He stared at me, his eyes still dark with the bliss of feeding. "Like toast."

I almost snorted a laugh. "Toast?"

He smiled back at me, faking anger in his tone. "Yes, toast! Not really heavy, but filling, you know? Like that. Only better. Like toast would be if Jack Nicholson made it."

"You think Jack Nicholson's toast would taste good?"

"What can I say? My man Jack has a magic touch."

And we were back. That fast. It surprised me, shocked me, almost, that our bond as brothers was deep enough that I could watch my brother suck human blood out of another vampire's mouth, and five minutes later, not care. It felt as though a backpack full of bricks had been taken off my shoulders. We could do this. We really could.

And then we heard the screaming.

Pouring up from the lower floor, two loud, long cries, and Bobby was in the room, dragging Lenore back with him. He slammed the door and called to me. "Sam, the door!" He started to drag the dresser to block the entrance. I leapt up and snatched the chair out of the corner, adding to the barricade.

"What is it?" I heard myself ask. The screaming stopped. Lenore went paler than before, slumping to the floor. Dean slid from the bed to her side.

"What is it?" My brother echoed my question, but put a force behind it I hadn't. She looked up at him with tear-stained eyes.

"I guessed, but I'd hoped…" She broke off sobbing, "Eli just went downstairs for a second…" She buried her face in her hands. Dean removed them with a decided lack of feeling. I stepped around them to grasp one end of the bed frame and drag it toward the door.

"Lenore!" Dean snapped, "Who are they?"

"The nest. Kate's nest. You're a part of that nest now, and them missing you is like missing an arm. I thought they'd cut their losses…" She shuddered.

"Yeah, well, they're knocking on the wrong door." I growled. Dean prided himself on his protective streak; mine was no less formidable.

There were footsteps on the stairs. I had a gun, but that wasn't worth crap against fangs. Bobby saved the day again. He tossed me an extra knife from his boot. It wasn't big, but it would get the job done. Dean snatched his from under his pillow (I didn't know when he'd put it there, or how he'd gotten his hands on it) and stood in front of Lenore. I stood in front of him. My pulse was pounding, and I wanted those fangs to come in and taste the sliver of steel in my hands. Wanted it. They'd die for what they'd done. Every last one of them.

I waited for the door to explode inward through our barricade. It didn't. There was a scuffle of feet, and a gentle knock. Bobby looked at us quizzically. I shrugged and steeled myself. Some game of theirs. I wasn't willing to play it.

Another knock, this time a little more insistent. We said nothing, but my nerves felt as though they might explode, and my adrenaline gland worked double-time. A single voice came wafting through the wood, deep, lulling, and masculine.

"I know you're there." I felt Dean stiffen up behind me, and Lenore gasped.

"I know that voice," My brother murmured. Bobby shushed him silently, a finger to his lips, but it was too late.

"Dee-aan." The voice said, a pacifying sound, drawn out on an exhale. "You're hardly strong enough to be up and about."

I turned my head and whispered, "Who is that?"

My brother shook his head, but he was biting his lip with his vampire-teeth half-extended, almost making them bleed. It was a thinking gesture, a parody of a more human mannerism. "I don't know." He murmured. His eyes were dark as they fixed on the door.

Lenore lifted her head slowly. "It's him," She whispered, and there was despair in her voice that was so total it made me shiver.

Bobby swore in frustration. "Who?"

Without warning, the wall next to the door exploded in a blast of sheetrock and wood, dust whirling up to obstruct our vision. I backed up, fighting to find clear air, put my hand on Dean's arm to keep him behind me. It didn't work. He fought his way out of my grasp and to my side, refusing to leave me vulnerable. The dust swirled around the room as we stood, tense, ready, waiting.

It settled slowly, lazily drifting down to the floor, and revealed a tall figure, standing as though the dust from the destroyed sheetrock wasn't choking him, that this was all very mundane. He waited patiently until the very last of it cleared, then stepped neatly into the room. He wiped slim fingers on his suit-pants and shook his head. "A messy business, but it had to be done." He remarked, looking around. His eyes lifted to mine. Dark like tin mines. "I've been looking for all of you for several days now." I tried again to step in front of my brother. Well-fed he might be, but at his peak? Hardly. This creature before me was strong. More than strong. Lenore had called my brother a newborn, and there was no way I was letting an infant go head-to-head against _that_. Dean, as per usual, was unrelenting. Lenore, however, was hiding behind us, almost begging the creature to take us and not her.

"Who are you?" I heard my brother say, his voice a coiling snarl.

Lenore sobbed quietly, "Xander."

"Who?" Bobby said, and I knew he was being purposely insolent, trying to annoy the creature's ego.

"A patriarch. An old patriarch." Lenore was almost crying.

My blood ran cold. "A…sire?"

The creature spread his arms wide at my revelation and smiled coldly. "At last, Dean. Come to father."

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_Next week; showdown!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Alright, the final installment. I know when I said I was extending the story, a lot of you thought I meant "make it an epic" longer. In reality, I just couldn't fit everything in that I wanted to. This is the end of _this _particular story, but I have several other ideas for stories in the same 'verse. _

_Thanks for all your support! _

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Bobby' knife seemed tiny in my hands. Xander stood patiently, arms outstretched, apparently expecting my brother to rush up, throw his arms around his neck and say, "Oh, Daddy dearest, I've missed you so!"

My brother curled his lip up in a feral snarl instead.

That placating smile turned cold.

"Not the reception I was expecting." He said, and stalked forward. The four of us moved as one, shifting sideways, weapons drawn. It was a dance, almost, circling around and around each other, his eyes hungrily sliding from one of us to the next, our hands hot for battle. Lenore had apparently gotten herself together to some degree. She was sliding along with us, behind us still, but no longer cringing away. Her fangs remained firmly behind her lips; my brother had bared his, and they glinted in the hazy light.

Xander came forward once, Bobby swung a wide arc with his knife, and the fang pulled back unharmed, laughing as his superhuman speed triumphed. He was tall, tall as I was, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, his hair cut neatly around his face. This was the kind of vampire people read about, the kind of vampire teenage girls drooled over across the pages of Anne Rice novels. Aristocratic, dignified, terrifying. Nothing like the earthy vamps we'd encountered before.

He stopped abruptly, crossing his arms across his chest. We stilled too, the anxiety of waiting making my heartbeat loud in my ears. We didn't wait long. With that incredible speed, he came forward, and lashed at Bobby with his fist, slamming him back against the wall. He fell with a thud, and I had no time to look at him before Xander was on me too.

He knocked me back onto the floor, pinned me down and held me still, but made no attempt to deprive me of my knife. He pushed my hands up above my head and lowered his face to a mere inch above mine. "So you're the one." He said. His breath was cold as ice against my neck as he brushed his lips across my jaw. And he was off, dragged backwards by his hair, my brother grunting in exertion as he heaved the patriarch away. He screamed, furious, and twisted around, like a cat trying to land on its feet, and snagged his long fingernails into my brother's arm, dragging him to the floor.

I sat up, my breath short from being slammed into the ground. The two of them were biting, clawing, kicking, Xander clearly winning. My brother met my eyes. "Bobby!" He cried, and I knew what he meant. I scrambled to the older hunter's side. He was scrambling back to his feet, resilient. I grabbed his arm.

"Dead man's blood?" I had to yell to be heard. The battle between my brother and his patriarch was unceasingly feral, screaming and yelling and growling. Bobby couldn't speak, breathless, but he reached under his shirt and shoved a corked bottle into my hands. Small, but it didn't take much. I popped the cork out and jammed the tip of my knife inside, and when I removed it, it dripped red. I slipped the bottle into my pocket.

I dove onto my knees, tried to stab into Xander's body, anywhere, but each time I moved to cut, my brother's arm, or leg, or back would be there, and I couldn't touch him with this crimson poison. Xander flipped around and slashed across my face with his fingernails, and I felt warm blood drip down my cheek. It knocked me back, only a foot, but it was enough. There was a fraction of a second where Xander looked to be coming after me, and that was all it took. My brother attacked again, and the real battle began.

He kicked sideways, trying to take out the older fang's knees, but Xander predicted it and caught his leg as it was extended, leaving him trapped.. Xander bared his fangs at last, monstrous teeth, inches long and sank them into my brother's side. Dean cried out, and bent his head, stabbing his own fangs into the patriarch's shoulder. He twisted at the same time and freed himself. He stumbled back a few steps, and they looked at each other, fiery from battle.

Dean's eyes met mine. I knew what he was saying as clearly as if he'd really been saying it. _Are you okay? _

I nodded silently. _I'm fine. _

His hands clenched and he turned his gaze back to Xander. _Wait for an opening and do it. _

I could only tighten my grip on the knife. I looked for Bobby. He was at the ready, too, nodding like he'd understood our silent conversation. And Lenore was standing, frozen, as though uncertain whether to run and survive or stay and die. We waited…and watched.

Dean spat a moutful of his own blood on the ground. "What do you want?" Dean growled. I started forward, but they were still standing too close. If Xander moved as I stabbed, I'd catch my brother on my knife instead.

Xander smiled, a wicked grin of teeth and blood and death. "You, of course. And revenge. Your brother killed several people who were very close to me."

"More children?" My brother said, sarcastic and biting. "Like me?" He snorted.

"Children, yes. Lovers too--"

My brother cut him off. "Was that one sentence? A little incesty, isn't it?"

Xander curled his lip. "You're quite funny."

My brother shrugged. "I try." And they met again. This time, Xander took initiative. He swung his fist in a vicious uppercut and caught my brother on the chin. His head snapped back, and two more blows were swift in coming, jabbing at his chest and neck. The older vamp was in control, and he knew it.

I was reminded of a National Geographic special I'd seen once. A pair of mountain lions were duking it out over territory. They'd come together, clawing and biting and bleeding, then they'd break apart, look at each other for a moment, stalking, planning, waiting, then they'd come together again. The fight before me was a gross parody of the same concept.

They came together and parted three times before I got in. Dean, scratched and torn in a hundred places, his shirt and jeans ripped ragged by claws and teeth, stumbled backwards, on the verge of collapse. Not far, but far enough. I went in as fast as I could and sunk my knife into his arm. It should have been his back, but he moved again, enough to deflect my blow just enough to make it less damaging. He hissed at me and clutched at his shoulder.

"You!" He growled. He cast a careless look back at my brother, who was panting desperately, then those eyes were back on me. "I've heard about you." He sneered, his lip drawn up. "Brother dearest turns into a monster and you've got the guts to keep him around. Keeping a pet, are we?"

"Shut up!" He was goading me by making my brother an object, but I couldn't stop my reaction. I swung the knife forward, but he knew I was coming and stepped easily out of reach. His laugh was like dry tree branches scraping a window.

"Think you're good enough?" He flung his arms out in defiance, giddy pleasure showing in his smile. "To beat me? To help your brother? Never. Not you. Not a human."

"What are you after?"

"Revenge. I thought we already talked about this."

"No. If you wanted us dead, we would be. You'd have killed us in our sleep."

His smile faltered. "Maybe I'm tired of the underhanded deed."

"Not a monster like you."

He looked at me a moment, his eyes dark, and then he shook his head. "You don't have the slightest idea, do you? Of what you're brother's worth? A hunter _and _a vampire? Your brother's the perfect killer. The right bidder would pay through the nose to have him in their employ. It's been centuries since I sired anyone quite so…valuable."

"So now I'm on the bidding block?" Dean cut in. He moved with an unnatural speed to my side. He stood close, and I felt his hand drop to the canister of blood in my pocket, sliding it out with the ease of a practiced thief. I made no move to acknowledge it.

"Not yet." Xander leered. "But soon enough. A pretty thing, too." He remarked. "That's another million right there."

"Not going to be so pretty if you keep bruising the merchandise." Dean swept a hand down his body, indicating his haggard appearance.

Xander shrugged. "You should have come quietly." And they came together again. The patriarch sank his fangs into my brother's collarbone, leaving his strong neck exposed, and I suddenly understood Dean's plan. The canister of dead man's blood was already uncorked and almost at my brother's lips.

"Dean!" I cried, but even as I said it I knew I was too late. My brother had a mouthful of poison. He bent his head and dug his own fangs into his sire's neck. This time coated with the only thing that a vampire couldn't take.

Xander screamed and his skin smoked with the pure concentration of the crimson on his neck. The two of them sank to the floor, slowly, and I snapped myself out of my morbid observation. My knife still had a thin sheen of dead man's blood on the blade, and I stabbed it into Xander's heart over and over and over until my brother at last let go and the patriarch lay motionless.

Dean fell away, slumping to the floor. I took a good look at Xander, made certain that there was no chance he'd be moving soon, and went to his side. He was curled up, vomiting up a steady jet of red, expelling the poison.

"Dean?" I whispered and put a hand on his shoulder. He shuddered, spitting the last of the dead man's blood from his mouth and opened his eyes. They were hazy and wild. "Dean?" I said again.

"You okay?" He said, and I felt relief roll over me like ocean waves.

"Don't you ever try that again! Have you lost your mind?" I cried, trying to be angry. It wasn't working. He sat up, inch by inch, my hand against his shoulders, supporting him.

He nodded his head in Xander's direction. "Finish it."

The patriarch was stirring feebly. I nodded and felt a white hot rush of hate cloud my head. I looked across at Bobby and Lenore, who were looking at us with expressions of mixed relief and worry. Bobby was favoring his arm. He nodded at me. "Do it, Sam. It's not like I care about the mess." I couldn't help but agree as I surveyed the destroyed room. Lenore crept over slowly, as though afraid Xander might still attack, and sat by Dean, letting him lean against her.

All three of them gave me a look of approval as I took the head from Xander's shoulders in one swing.

---------------------------

"I'm sorry about Eli." I said, hefting Lenore's bag into her backseat. We'd offered her a place to stay for the day, to keep her from the light, but she'd insisted on going back to her nest. Her windows were tinted almost black to keep the sun out. I tagged that memory for use on the Impala.

She nodded, and I saw the tears glisten behind her eyelids. She stood still for a moment, then shook her head. "I should go." She reached for my hand. "You know Xander's not the only one who's going to want a piece of your brother. And you. You've got to be careful, Sam. You're going to be on a lot of people's lists, now." She rolled her eyes. "A guy whose part hunter and part vampire, and a guy who killed half a nest on his own in one family. Some genes you Winchesters must have."

"Yeah," I murmured. "Some genes."

She pulled away slowly, waving one last goodbye from her window. I waved back and watched until she was gone, and went back inside. Bobby was sitting at his kitchen table as I entered. He waved me in. "I took care of the mess. Burned it out back."

"Thanks, Bobby." He slid me a beer as I sat down. "Where's Dean?"

"Upstairs. Haven't gotten the windows covered down here, yet. Figured he should stay up there until the clouds come out."

"Right." I paused. "Thanks again. For everything."

"Not a big deal." That gruff, loving tone was back, and I smiled behind the lip of my bottle.

"Yeah. Because so many other people would take in a guy and his vampire brother." He smiled at me, acknowledging the compliment. "Thanks. Really."

"Sure, sure. Get up there and see your brother." I didn't need to be told twice. I snagged another beer for Dean…just in case.

The room had been destroyed, but it was still the only room in the house with the windows all blocked off. It was funny, seeing Dean sitting serenely in a chair with rubble and bloodstains and claw marks all around him. He looked up as I came in.

"What's up?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop it, Sam. You came up here for one reason."

"Oh?"

"You wanna know all about how I'm feeling, and what's it like. You know, all the questions you always ask."

"That's not what I wanted."

Sarcastic silence.

"Okay, that is what I wanted."

He snorted, amused, but I knew he'd answer me. "Doing fine. I'll need to eat tonight."

I felt a brief moment of panic. "Dean, there aren't any cows around here." I'd seen him go hungry once, and I wouldn't ever see it again. Not ever.

"True."

"We'll have to leave. We could go north, I know there's a cattle ranch up there. Or I could scout around and see if there's anybody with a milkcow or something."

"Sam! Knock it off!" Dean cut my rambling short. "Lenore left me a store." He indicated a plastic shopping bag. I could see the packets of red underneath it.

"Oh."

"She said I have to live off those for the first couple days. We'll be out of here before I can eat beef anyway." He stretched out. I tentatively offered him the beer.

"Do you…I mean, can you…"

He laughed at me, snatching it from my uncertain grasp. "I can always outdrink my little brother. Vampire or not." He took a huge gulp.

"We'll see about that." I matched him swallow for swallow. We talked guns and girls and beer and nothing else.

I let go of the last thread of fear and doubt and let us be brothers again.

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_Thanks again! You guys have been super! _


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